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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013206">Maybe the True Communism Was the Friends We Made Along the Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Centricide (Webseries)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Drinking, Drug Abuse, M/M, Nuclear Winter, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:00:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ancap and Commie end up as roommates again, this time sharing a bunker after Postsadist's nuclear attack.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>LibLeft/AuthLeft, libright/authleft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this fic a while back and decided to polish/add to it hope u enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Postsadism has done it. He dropped the bomb. Hundreds of them, actually. The thing Commie had sacrificed everything to prevent so many years ago had finally happened. But he was still alive, only thanks to Ancap’s bunker. For whatever reason, the capitalist pig had taken him in. The other two extremists weren’t as lucky. “White Nationalist” and Ancom were nowhere to be found and had probably been eradicated in the blast along with god knows who or what else.</p><p class="p1">‘Are we the only ideologies left?’</p><p class="p1">‘Did Postsadism even survive?’</p><p class="p1">‘How do you accomplish goal like that if it is suicide? There can’t be true Communism when <em>all</em> of the people dead.’</p><p class="p1">These are all questions the Communist would think to himself as he and the kulak coexisted in the safety of his bomb shelter. At least the owning class could be good for <em>something</em>.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">Ancap likes to think of himself as a man of class and comfort. He knew that the apocalypse would be inevitable, so he had prepared for it. His gigantic underground bunker looked like a lavish hotel crossed paths with a modernized commune. Ironic, considering who he ended up being stuck there with.</p><p class="p1">He had beautiful bedrooms that he <em>assumed </em>would be for his child wives, or hell, even an upgraded slave’s quarters! But only him and the Tankie were left. At least he was a good sport about it, eager that Ancap had stored everything they would need to grow food underground with them. When he was thinking out the logistics of what a bunker should need in case it had to sustain life throughout an indefinite nuclear winter. So the Communist handled the farming situation well and was actually able to provide the two of them with fresher food than the seemingly endless perishable foods stocked in the pantry. This unfortunately meant that he couldn’t make any more jokes about famine without biting the hand that feeds.</p><p class="p1">The Capitalist still thought of this as an exchange, since there wasn’t exactly any money left and there was no meaning to it anyway when the last man on earth aside from you is the physical manifestation of Marxism-Leninism. Tankie puts in his work and can stay here rent free. Honestly it was even better because Ancap didn’t have to do anything in exchange for his labor. Survival was enough and Commie should be grateful for it.</p><p class="p1">Ancap expected to have servants down here to do all the work for him, but it was only the two extremists. The Tankie didn’t mind being put to work anyway. He was a pretty decent roommate. Hell, it was better than having all four extremes stuck together on one of his properties despite how much Communism and Capitalism naturally oppose each other. Nazi and Ancom couldn’t stop fighting eachother because they were both so caught up in identity politics. The Communist had told him off plenty of times before, but Ancap was never one to start a fight, as he avoided violating the NAP at most (if not all) costs. Commie’s attempts at debating him had often left him flabbergasted and feeling bad about himself. So much for the ‘tolerant left’.</p><p class="p1">Despite knowing the Communist thinks he’s the worst ideology of them all and hates his existence, he’s pretty rational about this whole situation. Not at all like his fellow anarchist, swinging queir bat around and picking up charges of domestic terrorism while throwing a tantrum. Or Nazi, always threatening to infringe on his rights due to his ‘degenerate’ behavior. Maybe working with his opposite was more beneficial in this situation than working with any of his other allies would be. Ancom was far too lazy and depressed to put an effort into anything and Nazi wouldn’t put in as much of an effort, if at all. Commie got to work and didn’t complain about it. And he was good at it, too. Ancap often caught himself admiring his strength and physique. Checking out Tankie from a distance is a nice distraction from how drastic this scenario had become.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">This was nothing like the Soviet bunkers he had built and grown accustom to. He didn’t realize one could find a way to live in the lap of luxury in the midst of the apocalypse. Tankie was surprised by it all, yet was thankful for all of the resources. He’d rebuilt from the ground up before, it just hadn’t been this drastic. But he reminds himself that had done it with less.</p><p class="p1">Working helps him relax. There wasn’t much else to do anyway. It’s a much more simple life than the one he knew. Constantly fighting for what he knows is right, fighting within his own ranks, betrayal and death, wether it be intentional or not. But he only had to worry about himself and the kulak this time around. He didn’t have to worry about the rest of his allies. They were already gone and there was nothing he could do about it.</p><p class="p1">He buried the pain of his losses and threw himself into his work. Physical labor took his mind off of things. He didn’t have to think as much. It took his mind off of the fact that he can’t enjoy himself the way he used to. Theory didn’t seem as compelling to him, as the world was a different place now. He still existed as an ideology of course, but didn’t feel as tempted to read theory as regularly or butt heads with his capitalist foe. What would be the point in that? After all, capitalistic society had been destroyed in the blast. The Ancap was no threat to him at the moment because there was no society for capitalism to be the default system in. There was nothing for him to fight for anymore.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">Ancap hadn’t felt the same either. He was always a busy man and liked keeping it that way. He came up with new ventures throughout his life in order to maximize his profits. He was able to keep everything going. Who else would be able to raise the value of his real estate by taking care of the city’s pesky homelessness issue while simultaneously pleasuring a harem of preteen wives? Both his legal and illegal practices had been kept under control. The feds were bribed on the regular to keep his way of life in check. Now there was no one left to take his bribes.</p><p class="p1">He should be happy, right? Nobody is trying to take his money! But what is his money worth? Is it anything compared to his assets? The ones that <em>weren’t</em> destroyed by the nuclear holocaust started by Postsadism.</p><p class="p1">‘What is anything I own worth right now?’</p><p class="p1">‘What am I even worth at this point?’</p><p class="p1">‘Does anything have monetary value anymore?’</p><p class="p1">Ancap couldn’t shake the doubt in his own assets. The reality of what the world had turned into had transformed his wealth along the idea of wealth in particular. He couldn’t handle all of this free time if he was going to let his thoughts and doubt consume him like this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ancap goes on a coke binge. Tankie looks out for Ancap.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for the feedback so far I really appreciate it &lt;3</p><p>I want to use the setting as an opportunity to explore Ancap's character with the capitalistic society we're so used to fading from existence and the effect it has on him as a character and ideology. meanwhile Tankie is just vibing because capitalism has been unofficially abolished. </p><p>this fic will eventually develop into some form of a relationship through copious banter that's definitely more politically insightful and satisfying than watching Ancom and Nazi whine about their identities and REEEE at eachother indefinitely</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The Communist was eating dinner alone. This wasn’t too unusual of an occurrence, but it had been a few days since Ancap had joined him for a meal. He usually craved attention. Commie couldn’t help but worry about him. He missed the simple comradery between him and the other extremists. He even got along with the kulak quite well despite their ideological opposition. They got on better than Nazi and Anarkiddie, that’s for sure. This new wasteland of a world made it easier to get along, especially when they were the only ones they knew who were safe from it.</p><p class="p1">Commie gets up from his chair and makes another plate. He hadn’t seen him around the bunker too much lately. He knew comradery was good for morale and prides himself on how much bullshit he’s able to tolerate from the capitalist without erupting into an immediate argument like Ancom or Nazi would. He was used to scoffing and rolling his eyes at the other man’s sense of ethics (or lack of them) instead of getting upset and taking him too seriously. He represents the system he had worked to dismantle, after all. He was used to seeing Ancap around the house, usually on his laptop or on a conference call, always working in some way. Maybe he hadn’t been around because he doesn’t have to attend to these responsibilities. Tankie can’t help but wonder what the hell he could be doing as he grabs the extra plate and goes to find his opposite.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">In the midst of a cocaine binge, nothing else matters. Ancap hadn’t thought of much for the past few days, stuck in his room. He only had a huge stash of coke under the king sized bed of his master suite and a dusty vanity with a razor, a rolled up hundred dollar bill and his black card. A small spoon had been knocked off the table early on when Ancap decided to let himself keep indulging. It’s not like he has anything to do anyway. Which was unfortunate, it makes for a pretty unproductive binge. </p><p class="p1">He felt like he was on autopilot. Waiting till his high went down to keep ingesting more. Would he die? <em>Could</em> he even die? The other ideologies have in been killed, but can the right really fall to a high enough cocaine overdose? Ancap didn’t care at this point. Nazi was dead. The wrong anarchist was dead. What a shame, the kid would get a kick out of his stash of substances. If either of them were to die from an overdose in this situation, it would likely be quem.</p><p class="p1">Ancap is so caught up in his own high thoughts that he just barely hears banging on the door. He snaps out of his high trance enough to hear the door open.</p><p class="p1">Tankie stands in the doorway like a parent walking in on their child.</p><p class="p1">“I, um, haven’t been too hungry lately.”</p><p class="p1">He observes the room. “You don’t say?”</p><p class="p1">“There are traces of cocaine on 90% of all paper bills in America, it’s normal.” Ancap pauses. “Or, well... there <em>were.” </em>He sighs, lamenting over the relevancy and worth of currency. He lays his head down on the dresser and sighs. The high never lasted longenough. It was convenient when he was working or had more going on in general, but there isn’t much for him to do… except for more coke.</p><p class="p1">Commie sighs, putting the plate down and heading over to Ancap. He looks up at him, pupils wide and eyes redder from a lack of sleep than from any substance.</p><p class="p1">“Clean up and go to sleep.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not Ancom. I can take care of myself.” The anarchist claims.</p><p class="p1">Tankie raises an eyebrow in response to that and turns on the lights attached to the vanity’s mirror. Ancap shuts his eyes and shields himself from the light.</p><p class="p1">“You’re malnourished.”</p><p class="p1">“It happens.” He says groggily, blinking frequently and adjusting to the newfound source of light.</p><p class="p1">“You smell like garbage.”</p><p class="p1">Ancap looks in the mirror. He definitely looks like garbage. His clothes and hair were a mess, not that he’d be able to smell himself properly after all that blow. The bags under his eyes were thick. Despite sitting in front of it for days, he hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror.</p><p class="p1">He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, seeing the Communist look at him through the mirror’s reflection. He didn’t have to see that to feel his eyes on him though. Ancap couldn’t tell if he was judging him or was genuinely upset by his behavior. Why should he care?</p><p class="p1">Commie opens the bedroom door, letting in even more light from the hallway. Ancap winces.</p><p class="p1">“Take a bath, you capitalist pig.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">Ancap isn’t high anymore. Just tired. His questionable decisions have caught up with him and his body couldn’t deny that. The water was steaming hot thanks to his seemingly unlimited amount of heat generators.</p><p class="p1">He couldn’t help but wonder why his alleged enemy would go out of his way to make sure he isn’t dead.</p><p class="p1">‘Maybe it was because of loneliness?’ He wonders.</p><p class="p1">That’s the reason why Commie was here, after all. If there were anybody else with him at that moment, he would’ve taken them underground with his instead. And if that Tankie were with them, he would’ve slammed the bunker door on him. But there wasn’t. The other LibRights helicopter hadn’t landed in time and his closer allies in the Centricide were preoccupied in fighting eachother, barely even aware of the nuclear threat.</p><p class="p1">Ancap remembers grabbing the Marxist by the arm at the last second, pulling him into the shelter and slamming the door shut before turning around to make sure it’s properly closed.</p><p class="p1">He remembers the feeling of his heart beating in his head as his shaking hands finish the job. He remembers the look on Commie’s face, a mix of shock and confusion took more prominence over his anxiety as both ideologies ran into the bunker, away from the enterance and falling bombs.</p><p class="p1">He shifts in the tub, the nearly scalding water leaves parts of his skin redder than his natural hue, it comes out as more of an orange on his pale yellow complexion. Commie probably didn’t understand why Ancap spared him and let him stay. Maybe he knew Ancap was taking advantage of his labor. Ancap was alright with letting him think that, and to be fair it was true. But Ancap really let him in because he didn’t want to be alone.</p><p class="p1">He slumps down, surrounded by bubbles, pretending he didn’t confess something so pathetic to himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Ancap finally leaves his room after sleeping off that bender. He casually makes his way to the kitchen and starts to make some coffee, grabbing a granola bar. He bites into it, not caring that it’s somewhat stale as he pours water into the coffee maker. The capitalist hears his roommate enter the kitchen and pull a chair back to take a seat.</p>
<p class="p1">“Glad to see you are recovering.” Tankie comments.</p>
<p class="p1">Ancap places the pot back on the machine.</p>
<p class="p1">“It wasn’t that big of a deal.” He brushes him off as he sets the machine to brew.</p>
<p class="p1">“You cannot let your vices control you like that, Ancap.”</p>
<p class="p1">Ancap didn’t want to think about that little breakdown. He could bring up a biting remark about Tankie’s own drinking, but decided he was in much less of a mood to fight than usual.</p>
<p class="p1">“Whatever, it isn’t your problem.”</p>
<p class="p1">“If we’re going to be stuck living like this then I think it’s my concern.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Stop pushing your commie bullcrap on me.” He mumbles as he watches the coffee maker.</p>
<p class="p1">“You anarchists have always been so childish, so afraid of order.”</p>
<p class="p1">He remembered how Tankie would coddle the left anarchist, trying to influence quem and helping quem out for the sake of ‘mutual aid’. They’ve always been like this, at least until the revolution ends. Then his allies become his enemies and they find themselves too dead to realize they’ve been betrayed.</p>
<p class="p1">Ancom would always be so forgiving of Tankie despite how much quey claimed to hate him. So optimistic, thinking leftist unity could be achieved. As if a statist would respect queir non-conformist ways.</p>
<p class="p1">But Ancom, be it sweet or naive, always gives him another chance. He realized why Tankie bothered to care.</p>
<p class="p1">“Listen, I know you miss quem.”</p>
<p class="p1">Commie turns away in a brooding manner as Ancap continues.</p>
<p class="p1">“I value my freedom, Ancom valued their own idealized version of freedom. We aren’t the same, I’m not gonna bend to your will like that.” He warns.</p>
<p class="p1">A few beats of silence fill their conversation before he begins to speak.</p>
<p class="p1">“The right gets along more, but the bond between leftists is... special.” Tankie explains.</p>
<p class="p1">“Were you two together?”</p>
<p class="p1">“...how so?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Romantically?”</p>
<p class="p1">“No.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh.” Ancap pauses before following up with yet another curious question. “Sexually?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Sometimes- I mean- that’s not your business.”</p>
<p class="p1">Ancap noticed the coffee had finished brewing. He pours some into a mug with the NAP logo plastered to the side of it.</p>
<p class="p1">“Hey, I’m not one to judge who fucks who. I‘m not like Nazi, I don’t see any problem with fucking another man. Or whatever Ancom was.” He says, spooning some sugar into his drink before stirring it.</p>
<p class="p1">“But you’d fuck a child!”</p>
<p class="p1">“I <em>have</em> fucked a child!”</p>
<p class="p1">“бог<b>...”</b> Commie mutters before shaking his head in disapproval and leaving the room.</p>
<p class="p1">“She was fourteen but it was a bargain!” Ancap yells before the door slams.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>shorter chapter today! next one will be longer i promise </p>
<p>commie and ancom were fuck buddies for the sake of "providing eachother with mutual aid"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Commie decides he is a good person. (He isn't.)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>big nsfw warning because this chapter starts with leftist unity porn lol </p><p>ive decided i want to add more flashback scenes to the story for the characters to reflect on, but it turned into gay porn this time around. my b</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The frame of the bed knocks into the wall over and over again, like the beat of a mallet pounding onto a drum.</p><p class="p1">“Tankie! Yessss!! Don’t stop~ aaH!”</p><p class="p1">Ancom was sprawled out underneath him, letting him have his way with quem. Commie lets out a low growl that compliments Ancom’s high pitched moans. He looks down to see the little anarchist stretching quemself out on his thick cock.</p><p class="p1">“You feel so fucking good...” Tankie utters as he slides himself in and out of quem. Ancom moans in response as quey feel Tankie bottom out inside them. Ancom groans as Tankie’s hips slam themselves against quem.</p><p class="p1">Quey let out a squeak when the tip of his dick hits queir sweet spot. Commie notices this and grinds himself into Ancom, rubbing himself against queir prostate again and again. Every time he did, Ancom would make noise. He grinds himself against the anarchist as he wraps his arms around quem. Ancom’s legs wrap around Commie as he starts to thrust again.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god!” Quey wine.</p><p class="p1">‘No gods no masters’ doesn’t apply when it comes to Ancom’s sexual preferences. Tankie grits his teeth behind a satisfied smirk as he feels Ancom tighten his legs, pushing Commie deep into queir ass.</p><p class="p1">“...oh my god~” Tankie utters, surrendering to the idea of a false entity in the moment, just as Ancom had.</p><p class="p1">“Tankie! I’m close!” Quey moan.</p><p class="p1">Tankie feels Ancom tighten around him as his cock throbs. He moans before grabbing queir hips. Tankie picks up Ancom and wraps his arms around quem before continuing to fuck the smaller leftist. Ancom’s cock rubs against Commie’s abs as he bounces quem up and down his length.</p><p class="p1">“An...com...” He grunts as he climaxes. Ancom squeals in arousal when quey feel the authoritarian fill him with cum. This is enough to send quem over the edge. Tankie rides out his orgasm as Ancom cums.</p><p class="p1">“Commie, I- yesyesyesyes! Fuck~”</p><p class="p1">Commie finishes to the sound of Ancom moaning like a pornstar. Quey grind queir cock up against his stomach as quey cum. The first two spurts hit Commie in the nose and mouth as the anarchist spasms in his arms. Ancom’s hoodie and Commie’s chest get covered in queir cum.</p><p class="p1">Commie places Ancom on the bed as quey come down from queir orgasm and pulls out.</p><p class="p1">“Nice aim.” He remarks dryly. Ancom giggles, seeing the stern intimidating Communist with queir semen on his face. Commie licks his lips, his serious expression remaining.</p><p class="p1">“You came a lot, you need to drink more water.”</p><p class="p1">Ancom rolls queir eyes and grabs his hand, pulling him towards the bed.</p><p class="p1">“I need to cuddle after that.”</p><p class="p1">He surrenders into his comrade’s arms after he wipes himself off with a towel. The leftists always found themselves here, blurring the lines between hate, lust and a concerning amount of intimacy. Ancom drifts off as Tankie overthinks what all of these things mean.</p><p class="p1">He didn’t love Ancom. Even if he did, he knew he couldn’t love Ancom and obtain his goal at the same time. True Communism is worth anything, the ends will always justify the means. Even if that involves putting a bullet in his comrade’s head after the revolution. Tankie looks down at the anarchist, head resting on his chest. Ancom, so idealistic. Queir breathing is slow and steady. He holds his breath and releases it in time with Ancom’s. They breathe in sync for a bit until he falls out of queir rhythm to take a deeper breath.</p><p class="p1">He groans, as his eyes move to the ceiling. The ceiling fan and open window were the only thing clearing the air in the semi-permanent hotbox that Ancom calls a room. Commie wishes Ancom wasn’t like this. He wishes he could show quem the light of leftist rhetoric instead of watching quem fall into a cycle of failing mental heath and drug abuse. He’s tried to help Ancom, but quey never change. Ancom's gender changed more than queir mindset since Commie had first met the green ideology. </p><p class="p1">He runs a hand through queir curls and sighs. He knows that he could do it right now if he really wanted to. He could snap Ancom’s neck with ease and not have to worry about the potential threat in the future.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t do it, but he knows he can.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">Tankie is a good person. At least, he thinks he’s a good person.</p><p class="p1">He takes a swig from his bottle and wipes the lingering alcohol from his lips with the sleeve of his uniform. He was on his second vodka bottle of the evening. After all, it's the best way for a worker to relieve stress after a long day of labor. He prefers this kind of work to any of the building or factory jobs he had worked back in the USSR. Now that he wasn't working, he had time to think about these things. Commie places the bottle on the table with a slam and makes a sour expression. He knows he thinks too much when he isn't busy. The thoughts of those he had lost soon found their way into his head yet again.</p><p class="p1">In an odd way, the people he misses the most are the ones he had to worry the most about. Him and Nazi worked well together when they had to, but there was always the lingering tension of the inevitable backstabbing that would take place. Trying to be one step ahead of Nazi behind his back was always a hard task. And of course there was Ancom.</p><p class="p1">He takes another prolonged sip and nearly finishes the bottle, remembering the last night they’d spent together before everything changed. He stares at the wall blankly, lost in trying to string his own thoughts together regarding his complicated relationship with his deceased comrade. Commie smiles when good memories come up and frowns when he remembers their fights. Like how Ancom would squeal at him for hours over genocides that shouldn’t really matter in the long run if it can give the communist state a better quality of life. Ancom was too naive and innocent to understand that. He wasn’t a bad person, he just knew what had to be done. He was <em>helping</em> people! He was sure of it!</p><p class="p1">Tankie remembers a fight over Hong Kong he and the anarchist had. How Ancom was such a little pawn for thinking the capitalists would have its best interests in mind. As if they could be trusted. He hears Ancom’s high pitched voice in his ear, telling him that the city state shouldn’t be swallowed by China’s 'totalitarian regime'. In response he throws the nearly empty bottle at the wall, yelling as he throws it and watches the glass break into countless pieces.</p><p class="p1">“I AM a good person!” He declares. He doesn't know if it's for himself to hear or in his own defense. Commie leans against the wall and barely notices himself slide down it as he presses his weight against it. He ends up slumped over on the floor by the door, mumbling to himself. </p><p class="p1">'<em>Am I a good person</em>?'</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>bold of Tankie to call Ancap out on substance abuse when his favorite recreational activity as of late is getting shitfaced </p><p>either way, these workaholics dont have healthy coping mechanisms</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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